


It's A Cat? (She's A Cat)

by CookieCatSU



Category: Wonder Woman (Movies - Jenkins)
Genre: And general affection, Barbara is catlike, Established Relationship, Exploring the idea that Barbara renounced her wish but consequences, F/F, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Has catlike characteristics, This is the fallout, and Diana somehow becomes even more enamored
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:08:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29232054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieCatSU/pseuds/CookieCatSU
Summary: Sometimes, the line between Barbara Ann and Cheetah is particularly blurry.Diana is probably less concerned by this than she should be.
Relationships: Diana (Wonder Woman)/Barbara Minerva
Comments: 6
Kudos: 145





	1. I See A Cat

Diana glimpses white fur speckled black, rippling shiny in the moonlight, and must ask herself what Barbara has done.

Her nose scrunches, scrunches in the same way it had in the White House, and Diana sees Barbara. Sees that beyond that serrated exterior, it's _still_ Barbara.

She realizes they're synonymous. Barbara Ann and Cheetah. Same coin, different sides.

Even after the wish dissolves, there's bleed-through. Little starling reminders Diana can't help but notice.

Just little things.

"Long day?"

Barbara smiles from her perch on the sofa. It's faint, soft, but absolutely edged in exhaustion. "Very, very long day"

Diana gently rakes her fingers through Barbara's wind tousled hair, scratching at her scalp, and the woman presses shamelessly into waiting fingertips. She emits a pleased hum, which soon morphs into something else, low and vibrating in the back of her throat, something rumbling deep in her chest, fuzzy where Barbara's back comes in contact with Diana's side.

It takes Diana a moment to realize it, but she's… oh.

Wow.

"You're purring?"

"Oh, yeah. I think it's a leftover from the transformation" Barbara shifts with discomfort now, pleased satisfaction forgotten. Her voice rises several octaves, and she moves to sit up. "It's weird, isn't it? I'm sorry. This is probably freaking you out"

Diana shakes her head. Smoothes a stray curl from her forehead. "I think it's cute" She assures, "It's also relaxing to listen to"

She curls back up at her side. "Oh, okay"

"Wanna watch some 'soap' operas?" Diana asks, already reaching for the remote. It's the usual prescription for Barbara after she's had a long, bad, or stressful day.

At home, snuggled up in a toasty blanket on the couch, and with the fifth episode of Hollyoaks playing in the background. Truly magnificent treatment.

"Yeah" Barbara smiles, appreciative. "I'll make some popcorn"

* * *

It might be a trick of the light, but sometimes, Barbara's eyes still look yellow. Amber bright, sparkling topaz, with a faint iridescent veneer that's too shiny to be 100% completely human.

Sometimes, she forgets to put on her glasses, but can see just fine. In the dark. At near midnight. Barbara doesn't quite connect the dots, often too tired to really think it through (too exhausted to wonder why her vision isn't fuzzy, isn't dotted and blotchy at 3 in the morning), but Diana does. She notices.

Sometimes, she smiles, and Diana glimpses canines just a little too sharp, just a little too long. Gleaming white in the bathroom mirror.

Then, one Friday afternoon, during lunch, Barbara says, "I used to be a vegetarian. Now I'm not?" With a sidelong glance toward the opposite side of the breakroom.

"Now you're not?" Diana echoes, inflection and all.

Barbara offers a nervous smile. Twirls a finger through a puffy blonde curl. "Yeah. I've started craving meat… basically all the time? It's weird"

Diana nods in agreement. It's incredibly odd. Odd has become the new normal, however, especially in relation to Barbara.

(Not unwanted- no, no, of course not- because Diana finds herself enamored of all things Barbara, but odd). Undeniably odd.

She leans forward across the tiny breakroom table. "So what are we having today?" Diana asks, pointing at the Tupperware of food Barbara snuck in.

She brightens immediately. "It's spaghetti. I made a huge pot last night. Not sans meat, obviously"

"May I try some?"

Barbara nods, with a quiet hum, and grabs Diana's fork. She collects the noodles with a pristine twirl, meat sauce and all, but then seems uncertain what to do after that, sitting half frozen, fork floating between them. Diana leans closer on her elbows, clearly expectant. And about a hundred emotions flit across Barbara's face, in that moment, like fireworks freshly set off. Uncertainty and affection, and something else entirely. 

Eventually, she settles for a laugh, and feeds Diana the spaghetti without another seconds hesitation.

Diana savors. Pulls back. May, or may not offer Barbara a flirtatious wink.

Barbara also may or may not turn utterly red in the face, before glancing away.

"That's really good," Diana exclaims, eyes lighting up. She covers her mouth with a hand, and reaches for a napkin.

Barbara glows. "Thanks so much. I'm still a little dubious. Ugh, meat, you know?"

* * *

Diana has noticed that Barbara keeps her apartment toasty warm in the winter months, so warm in fact that it's just on the fine line of sweltering. The thermostat reads 80 degrees, though it's only 50 outside, and Barbara is still bundled up in a thick woolen sweater, just barely managing not to shiver.

Barbara carefully slips under the comforter beside Diana, grabbing at the blankets as if they're a lifeline, seeking out warmth. Curls up next to her, nose pressed into the curve of her neck, hand around her waist.

"It's cold" Barbara murmurs, when Diana makes a quiet, confused noise.

"Your hands are cold" Diana whispers back, as she turns in bed to face her. Her expression is content, soft and with fluttering eyes, and if Diana had ever had a kitten growing up, she'd certainly liken Barbara to one.

Barbara just makes a tired sound, burrowing further.

"They'll warm up" Then she laughs a little, "Share the body heat. Don't be stingy"

"Stingy? I'd never"

* * *

"Diana" Barbara rushes to her. "God. What happened?"

Diana smiles, from where she's leaned against the doorframe of Barbara's apartment. It falters, when she jostles her side just wrong, followed by a pained wince she immediately pushes past.

"A few stray bullets is all" She pushes her headband further up her forehead, determined not to let it fall off. Out of her ensemble, it'd be the only thing not falling apart. "Maybe a bomb threat"

Barbara winces in sympathy. "A bomb threat?" Her eyes are then drawn to Diana's singular bare foot, and she hardly holds back a surprised gasp. "Where's your boot, Diana?"

"It served as a worthwhile sacrifice"

She's scuffed, but not totally battered. Barbara imagines it's the immortal invulnerability that allowed her to come out of an apparent bomb threat (that probably wasn't just a threat, after all, and was one she would also probably be hearing about on the news very soon, along with reported accounts of that _Wonderous Woman, back again?_ ) with only scrapes and a few cuts- but some of them look deep, and she's _bleeding_.

And Barbara isn't sure if it's panic, or instinct, but… okay, she absolutely panicked.

Diana pulls her hand back, genuinely caught off guard. "Did you just… lick my wound?"

"No!" Barbara says quickly. "Yeah. Maybe. Just a little bit?"

Diana bursts into laughter. It's bright, and highly amused, and Barbara wonders if Diana should be laughing so hard when she may or may not have a bruised left side. "Why would you do that?"

"Well, you know how mother cats lick their kittens when they're hurt or dirty… not that you're a kitten or I'm a cat. Because I'm not. I just– it made a lot more sense in my head"

"I think I get it" She's still smirking. "I promise I'll submit to proper aid. Peroxide and everything. Just so long as you promise _no_ more licking"

Barbara barely manages not to huff aloud.

"Just come here"

* * *

They're walking hand in hand through the Square, coats pulled tight against the brisk Autumn wind. Leaves flutter down in multicolored rain, crunching underfoot.

"People used to tame Cheetahs" Barbara observes, and she sounds surprised.

"Really?" Diana's brow furrows. She presses a kiss just below Barbara's hairline. "I wonder how they managed that"

Barbara laughs. "Oh you know. A mixture of bribery, affection, and I'm sure access to plentiful food played a part, too. Why hunt when people will just feed you?" She shrugs, eyes returning to the tablet cradled in her hand. "It started in Egypt. An expedition found some seals a few years ago, depicting animals referred to as 'panthers'. They're totally cheetahs though"

Diana finds the thought of taming a Cheetah, very, very amusing.

Diana had seen the wild sheen in her eyes, up on that mountain cliff. They'd been tiger's eye gold in the darkness, slit black. Filled with a hunger, a ferocity unrivaled… and Diana wonders how anyone could be arrogant enough to think they could control that. The strength. Who beholds the vast, sleek power of a cheetah, and really feels they can contain it? Trap it? Shackle it to be called upon, hand and foot, beck and call?

It's insane. Unrealistic. A fool's errand.

"It's crazy, isn't it" Barbara looks up at Diana, and her eyes are green. Green like rustling leaves, warm summer evenings, softly bubbling harbor waves. Her hands are soft in hers, nails rounded and smooth, and such a contrast to sharp edged tatters bathed in ichor.

She has such trust in her. Diana can see it. See it in the way she pulls her hand closer in, in the little patterns she traces across her forearm in her distraction, in the quiet whispers, soft observations- the glimpses into inner workings she doesn't allow anyone to be privy to, besides Diana.

She sees the _love_ in her eyes, when she is looking elsewhere, and turns just in time to catch Barbara staring. 

It's endearing, and Diana feels honored. Honored to be afforded a place in her life. Honored to be chosen.

"Is there something in that article about someone getting their hand bit off?"

Barbara stops. Actually stops in the middle of Town Square, staring at her tablet screen.

"I don't think so. It's a long article though. Because It's Wikipedia, so everybody has to add their 2 cents"

"Sorry if I'm skeptical. I just can't imagine someone trying to tame a cheetah"

"They're pretty personable"

You don't _tame_ cheetahs. That's silly.

One might follow you. Might listen, even, lay at your side, but make no mistake. You've been chosen.

Barbara renounces her wish. Comes to work, having shed the shroud of immortality, and somewhere, between awkward smiles and reacquainting handshakes, Diana knows she's been _chosen_.

"How do you even catch a cheetah?"

"At 70 miles per hour? You don't"

Diana doesn't change her tact. Just pulls Barbara closer, still dubious, curious. "How do you attract a cheetah?"

Barbara shrugs. Smiles softly. "Maybe they see something worth slowing down for"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked up so many cheetah facts for this. I did research guys. Research.
> 
> I also based this on stuff my cat does. Cats, gotta love 'em, am I right?


	2. Hear Thunder? Jump In A Box.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara is scared. Diana comforts her.
> 
> Warning: Angst is ahead. I don't think it's too heavy, but here's a heads up just in case.

"Barbara? Barbara?"

It takes Diana nearly half an hour to find Barbara. It's raining, thundering, and the windows are slick with water droplets. Every so often, there's a booming crash, the flash of lightning, whitish blue, reaching down to gently kiss the earth just out beyond their window before disappearing with a dim afterlight.

Diana hardly notices. She's stumbling in her house slippers, desperately searching everywhere for her beloved.

"Barbara? Where are you?"

She finds her, curled up beside the washing machine. Her knees are pulled to her chest, and one of Diana's discarded (missing) shirts is pulled up to cover her face. It'd be an adorable sight, and Diana would absolutely be laughing, if it weren't so odd. And if Barbara weren't shaking. 

Goodness. She's _shaking._

Diana rushes to her side.

"Are you alright?"

She gently grasps Barbara's hands, which tremble, before clutching onto Diana's own with a vengeance. 

Barbara let's out a quiet whimper that makes Diana wilt with concern. She's never seen Barbara so frightened. So tight shouldered and jumpy.

"No. No I-" She cuts herself off abruptly, drawing further back. Diana follows, stepping ever closer as Barbara pushes herself back up in the cubby between wall and appliance, before taking a seat on the laundry room floor.

She slowly raises the edge of the shirt. Smiles her most encouraging smile, though faintly curled with worry, at the sight of Barbara's face. Her eyes are wet, red rimmed. She raises her hand to wipe roughly at the edges of her eyelids, and seems to have half a mind to pull the shirt back over her face.

"Hey, it's okay" Diana whispers. Barbara sucks in a hiccuping breath, but refuses to look at her. There's something like shame in her eyes. Faint green embarrassment. "Talk to me?" Diana offers, softly.

"It's silly" Barbara mutters.

Ridiculous. Diana wipes a tear from the apple of her cheek, with a caressing swipe of her thumb. Barbara leans unabashedly into her touch. "Nothing you have to say could possibly be silly, Kitten"

"It's just… it was raining, and then it started to thunder outside-" She jolts again, at the telltale boom of thunder. It's muffled, so far in the apartment, but still loud, resonating in their bones, shaking the floor boards. Barbara bites back another whimper. "-and I got scared"

Diana's smile is understanding, and sympathetic. It'd been raining all day, thundering on and off. In hindsight, it all makes so much sense. Too much sense.

So much sense, it's painful.

When Diana reaches to rub a hand against Barbara's arm, she's reminded of prickling gooseflesh, raised by chilly waters and stunning electric currents. She draws back. Clasps both her hands again. "So you hid beside the dryer?"

"Yeah. I did." Barbara nods, repeats again. "Yeah" 

And it's reminiscent of that first week.

_"BellView Therapy?"_

She'd pulled at her ear, hemming and hawing, still so unsure. _"I'm not sure this will help"_ She'd said, and she smiled, but it's obvious she was afraid. Afraid of being judged. Afraid of never being right again. Barbara still doesn't look at swimming pools quite the same, and telephone poles make her anxious, in an inexplicable way she can't talk about.

Her fingers curled against the table, and she stared blankly at the pamphlet.

 _"Could it?"_ Diana asked. 

_"It could"_

_"Then I don't think you could rob yourself the opportunity; the possibility, that this might help. Not in good conscious"_

Barbara folded the pamphlet, stowed it in her purse.

Barbara folds the shirt, finally removed completely by Diana, who's watching attentively and patiently waiting for the words she knows are yet to come.

"Yeah. It's hard to explain, but it helps. Helped. I think it's the fact that it's a confined space, and something about that is really comforting. It feels safe. Protected. Like the dangers outside can't reach me"

"So when you feel threatened-?"

"-just run to the washroom and hide behind the dryer. It's foolproof. No one would _ever_ look in here"

"You almost had me" Diana says, dead serious. Then she flashes a mirthful smile, small and gleaming white in the dark.

Barbara can't help but grin back. It's still tremulous, but it's something.

Diana points to the spot beside Barbara, "Can I?" She asks. Barbara nods. Diana scoots in the cubby beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. She lays her chin against the top of Barbara's head, and starts to run her fingers through her hair, singing quietly under her breath.

"I'll protect you" She promises, between Themyscira born lullabies.

"Thank you," Barbara whispers back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My cat is terrified of thunder, and everytime it starts to thunder he runs and hides behind the washing machine. So this is based on that. Also on the fact that cats love boxes and tight spaces, and it makes no sense but also makes a lot of sense?
> 
> I also have a small headcanon that Barbara is scared of thunder after the fight at the end of WW84, but it isn't a super serious one.


End file.
